We’re Contemptuous of Ourselves

By Isdore Guvamombe
The folly of Zimbabwe’s destiny lies in a fetish plinth that Sadc and the African Union (AU) are insignificant to the African cause, while the European Union (EU) and International Criminal Court (ICC)are the gods, what they say is divine.

This is the fad of our opposition that makes it quickly dismissive of everything homegrown and African, while swallowing line, hook and sinter, every mortifying falsehood Western Europe hawks on Zimbabwe.

Such is the fate of our time, the epitaph of our opposition’s departure from nationalism and hard-won independence and subsequent submission to willing recolonisation by western capital as a means to gaining political power in Zimbabwe.

The preponderance to play up to the Western gallery to the point of inviting sanctions on their own country to make the people suffer and use their anger to squeeze zanu-pf out of power, will forever be the hallmark of MDC-Alliance.

A fetid epitaph.

Flash back. In my village on April 17, 1980 under the silhouette sunset horizon, village cattle herders tethered goats to pegs with sisal ropes and penned the cattle. Soon the goats and cattle started chewing the cud, resigning to their boring nocturnal routine.

Momentarily, the village was agog with children playing off the dusk, their sturdy legs caked with a mixture of cow dung, mud and dust.

They were indeed bidding farewell to the day and unbeknown to them, bidding farewell to an era.

Each child knew exactly what time to go home, for the war of liberation had just ended.

The night suddenly went oppressively silent.

The only sound the villagers could hear was screeching crickets, the distant hoot of the owl and the howling of the jackal.

Even the night was dangerously quiet and pregnant with the anticipation of the next day’s activities.

Tree branches sang in harmony with the easterly winds.

Men sat around fires, discussing a major event that was about to change the fortunes of the black majority.

It was an event too good to believe — a chance too good to miss and a destiny all and sundry in the black community of Rhodesia was waiting for.

But as the norm in the village, it was taboo to discuss matters of State and governance on dry throats and equally taboo to participate in serious matters while sloshed. So, they drank moderately from their calabashes, leaving room for tomorrow’s job.

Suddenly, the village went to sleep, everyone no longer milking from behind the ears, promising to wake up early and fulfil a promise to endorse his or her liberation from colonial bondage.

Rhodesia was a forlorn affair, very few people would go back to it. Maybe only sell-outs and die-hard Rhodesians. The villagers had made sure Rhodesia was dead and buried.

At dawn on April 18, the time elephants normally bathed in Dande River, many a villager came out of the stupor of sleep and hurriedly carried out their domestic chores in preparation for the celebrations.

Then, the sun shone brilliantly and villagers gathered at Muzika School, greeting each other effusively, cheering and enjoying the dawn of a new era. Independence had come!

Villagers went into a frenzy of celebrations the whole day. Cattle, goats, sheep and chicken were slaughtered. Drums of food boiled on huge bonfires, whose tongues of flames licked the exterior metal with a passion.

Villagers danced and raised the dust. Their bodies needed to shake off the dark memories of Rhodesia.

They sweated it out through bum-jive, kongonya and chamusasura, among other dances.

There was deft footwork, body shaking and waist-wriggling.

When night fell, it was as if that was dawn. No one went home. The dancing and feasting continued.

In the aftermath of the celebrations, the grounds had nothing but dust and gnawed bones, empty and half-empty bottles of beer and drink and some sloshed villagers were seen snoring in various corners and indeed in different postures. On occasions, like these, some virgins were deflowered.

Some members overcome by drink and fatigue, sprawled in various corners, for in Rhodesia all they had enjoyed was forced labour, dehumanising treatment and suffering.

Now, 39 years after independence, there is a disturbing mentality in the country.

There is a brigade that does not understand independence and the cost that brought it.

The mentality of self-contempt that manifests through a brigade of opposition politicians who think the country’s solutions must come from western countries, from the same colonial master.

This brigade believes whatever the west says is God given and the way to go.

They create bad situations and engage in bad politics all to have the ear of their western handlers. They are prepared to destroy the country and act up so that they generate images for their masters.

The folly of Zimbabwe’s destiny lies in a fetish plinth that Sadc and AU are insignificant to the African cause but the EU and ICC are the gods, what they say is divine.

This is the fad of our opposition that makes it quickly dismissive of everything homegrown and African, while swallowing line, hook and sinter, every mortifying falsehood Western Europe hawks on Zimbabwe.

Such is the fate of our time, the epitaph of our departure from nationalism and independence and subsequent submission to willing recolonisation by western capital as a means to gaining political power in Zimbabwe, will forever be the hallmark of MDC-Alliance.

The sad story is that the opposition in Zimbabwe is acting according to the script of its handlers at the expense of the country.

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